The Day I Gave My Soul To A New Religion...

Lately, I've...wait, let me start again. Last year, I...what the hell am I trying to say here? So, it all started when I bought these tickets to this festival on a beach in Pensacola to see this one particular band that I (we) thought we would apparently never get to see live again in our lifetime. I mean, why else would we drive 6 + hours on a work day, on a school day to spend the night only to get up to sit all damn day on a hot sandy ass beach in the middle of October? You might have heard of the band, 30 Seconds To Mars? Uh huh, I thought so. And if not, you should check em out. And if you have, and you don't like them, well, whatever. So, that's how this all started. Now that you are filled in on the backstory, lemme get to the point here. This festival had a 3 day lineup filled with all sorts of bands, 90% of which I'd never heard of. I'd be hard pressed to name some of them for you now, but I'll give it a shot...hmmm...nope...wait, Michael Franti and Spearhead? Does that sound right? Maybe. Also on the bill, Bush (I know, right? What the fuckin hell?), 311, and Stone Temple Pilots. Okay. Whatever. That's nice. That's swell. Like I mentioned earlier, we didn't care about anyone but 30STM. Except...one night, while trying to get all hyped up for this festival, I decided to check out other bands. I mean, what could it hurt? I might actually like one or two of them actually. Enter---BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB. My life has been forever changed. And to understand how my life has been forever changed, you just need to know that I refuse to remember how my life was before I was turned on to the music of Robert Been and Peter Hayes. How did I managed to miss this band that has been around since the beginning of the damn decade? Anyhow, all of that doesn't matter for shit now because this band's music has become such a huge part of my life that I don't know if I could breathe without it. And if I could (and yes I know I could, really) I don't think I would want to. Ever.

Did I tell you that we went on to see BRMC live that Saturday? An hour long set of a band that was too fucking cool for the daylight, let alone a beach, let alone flying beachballs. I rocked my face off. Stood up on the metal barricades trying just to be a few inches taller so I could see over the VIPs. Trying not to be that chick that would scream "woooooohooooo eeeeeeeeeeeehh yeahhhh wooooo" after every song, but I was hopelessly hopeless and was so much that chick that I had to bite my knuckles just to keep my mouth shut. I remember, there was this lady behind and to the side of us that watched (with her eyes closed) the whole BRMC set with a drink in one hand and her other arm skyward just kind of swinging, swaying there, if you will. Back then, on that day, I thought she was too drunk for 3 in the afternoon, for a hot sandy ass beach, for a crowd that was only gonna get bigger. But now, I completely understand.

BRMC is a way of life. BRMC is an addiction, an affliction. BRMC is a family, and a moving experience. The only people who understand the way BRMC can move you are the people who are moved by BRMC.

Who knows when I'll get to see them again....might be next month or next year, but I know, that when I do, I'll close my eyes, raise my hands to sky, and sway. That is, when I'm not being that crazy knuckle-biter screamer dreamer that I am.



p.s. We hung in to see 30STM on that night, but the beach defeated us. The crowd won. The VIPs won. We barely made it out with just our flipflops and our lives, but that's okay. If we'd just been a little more patient or a little more psychic, we would have known that come January we would get to see that band again in Atlanta at the comfy confines of The Tabernacle. But....if we would have known that we probably would have skipped out on DeSucka Fest and missed ever discovering BRMC, and I'm not even gonna think about that, because I can't. I don't remember anything before BRMC, and that's just the way it should be.

Acting out

"Be real for once in your life."

"Okay, but only if I can fake it!"

Collage

I've got issues serious issues not the subscription kind more like the prescription kind but I don't take pills mainly because I don't have a prescription and I don't read but I keep the magazines just for the pictures and I cut them out sometimes, well not, really, but once I did and it turned out kind of nice and pretty and I had fun doing that and it kept my mind occupied and my brain focused and at the same time it allowed me to be totally free from any and all boundaries and rules because that's kind of what a collage is, just a big hot mess of stuff, all glued together to be one big picture, and you don't always get the right piece in the right place, so you just add more glue or you add more glitter or you find another word or another photo or whatever, maybe it's a butterfly or a heart that needs to go there, and sometimes the glue runs, and it kind of hurts a little, because you can't do anything about it, it's in my nature to want to fix it, it needs to be fixed, it should be fixed, except that it can't be fixed, accept that it can't be fixed, and just accept it for what it is, so you laugh it off, and you turn it into a joke, or an emo teardrop is what I called it, and it was okay, though it still bothered me, it did, and yeah, I'm stalling because I don't know how to start this, or stop this, and I figured that it was in my best interest to just let this thing go where it wanted and not be bound and gagged though gagging is what I feel like doing right now why in the world would writing something that makes no sense or no difference it can't really do anything make me feel this sick to my stomach I don't know why or how I got to this point anyway wasn't it just yesterday and wasn't tomorrow supposed to be the day and wasn't today supposed to be the best day and when did it all turn or maybe it never did maybe nothing happened at all and it was all a big dreamy dream of a life that I made up in mind that I never could decide on that I never could pick for myself someone always has to choose for me because I suck at decision making and I suck at choosing and I'm scared of being wrong and I'm scared that I will hurt feelings possibly your feelings and I don't want that responsibility and I don't want that and I never knew I've never known how or what or where or when or who or any answer but yet I know that sometimes it doesn't matter if you know the answers if you don't know what the question is have you ever thought about that how we spend our whole lives and yes I am speaking to you like we're friends or family or partners mainly because I would like to think that we are all looking for the same thing on the journey to that thing that one thing that elusive incredible amazing thing but my problem is that I have never known what I was supposed to be looking for because heaven knows I never looked to myself or at myself for that matter shudder at the thought for answers to anything I shake my head now and my hands shake now at the thought of thinking about myself and how mucked up my head is and the stupid things that I do think about when I think are mainly just a distraction from thinking about the things that I really should be thinking about and I will give you an example like how I don't have anything to wear to a funeral seriously who thinks about stuff like that or how I haven't had my hair done by actual hairstylist with an actual license in over 20 years because I don't know what I want her to do with it or what I should expect her to do with it or maybe it's because I don't want to sit down and look at myself in her big mirror or do that small talk chitter chatter that all hair do'ers want to do when you sit down and become their prisoner but mainly I just don't think it matters I guess because I'm resigned to the fact that my hair will always be flat and oily and it won't do what I want it to, oh well, we all can't have great hair or great anything, big lips and bigger boobs, tiny feet, and mucked up everything else is what I got, nothing special and nothing I want to dwell on, ewwwh, ewwwh, ewwwh, I'm so tense because I got so mad the other day and so pissed at myself because I let myself be made all sad and wah wah depressed by someone, him and maybe one damn day I will learn to disregard him the same way he disregards me but that also pisses me off because I don't want to be like that but why why why why do I want to be better than that because it's too damn easy to be like everyone else or maybe it's not because fuck me I can't seem to do it, yes, yes, yes I will, what more do you want me to do because I will gladly do that too, sure do I get extra points for all my asskissing and just plain throwing myself at you, putting myself out there time after time maybe because I safely know that as long as I throw myself under your crazy train, I don't risk getting picked up by some psycho killer who has a thing for lost little girls wandering around aimlessly up and down the tracks, or maybe it's just because I don't know what I would say if I ran into someone at the station who just wanted to have a "normal" conversation with me, what, like anything about me is normal, hardly, wait, yes, of course I am, it's time, it's past time, it's way past my bedtime and I need to figure this out my way out of here, it's a maze, amazingly I know that I haven't moved at all, what am I waiting for, for you to not call, for you to call, for it to repeat again, what the hell am I waiting for, your permission, absolution, what, what, what, and what do I want, where do I want to go, does it even matter, what if I can't figure it out, I will figure it out and I will fix it because it has to be fixed, it has to be fixed, I just need to remove, rearrange the pieces and buy more glue and sprinkle more glitter and put my heart right there, no, no, wait, right here.